


getting ahead

by honeypottrap



Series: keeping chemistry [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (not quite) Getting Together (and the subsequent backpedaling), Generally Unimpressive Sex Amidst Legitimate Feelings, Hook-Up, M/M, Premature Ejaculation, no shade Auston Matthews but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 01:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypottrap/pseuds/honeypottrap
Summary: men will literally nut 45 seconds into sex and have the audacity to ask if you came. yeah i came to the wrong house"- Iguana. (kajuana_marie). 18 Dec 2017, 11:33 PM. Tweet.(There are probably other words Auston could use to describe this moment, his feelings, but his mind is locked on a mantra offinally finally finally. He has actual feelings for Mitch, he realizes, and it’s a whole lot easier to come to terms with that in this moment with Mitch’s lips on his.)





	getting ahead

**Author's Note:**

> for context: remember that time Auston and Mitch got put on a line against Montreal and immediately scored two goals? good times. Mitch playing with Zach & Willy is true as well. overall, there's not a lot of truth in this.
> 
> major thanks to BmS for listening to me ramble about this ages ago. it finally exists!
> 
> ***note: if you’re looking for more bad-at-sex fic or where it’s more centric to the plot, i wholeheartedly recommend hundred miles an hour by Anonymous (at https://archiveofourown.org/works/15341073#main).  
> it’s way, way sweeter with an est. relationship and I completely adore it. the shooting-off-early scene has been polluting my docs for a long while (since the playoffs, yikes), so any similarities are purely accidental, but that fic is absolutely lovely in its own right, so please please give that a read/comment if the concept interests you!

Something must possess Babs during their game against Montreal, because Auston’s sent out on a line with Mitch of all people. Something must possess him when it happens, too, because they connect for two goals, puck landing easily on his tape and finding its way to the back of the net. And it’s like magic, the way it happens, the way Mitch curls into his arms during the celly, all animated smiles and shouts.

“That was incredible, oh my god.” Mitch is still chattering excitedly after the game’s end, even as Auston locks the door to his apartment behind him. They’re both grinning like loons, and Auston’s chest is warm with it.

“You’re on fire, Marns, can’t believe--”

“There’s no way he doesn’t play us together again.”

Auston’s gaze drops to Mitch’s mouth and he accidentally gets caught staring, eyes dipped too low for too long, but Mitch just beams. It’s an utter shock when he steps forward into Auston’s space to kiss him, naturally, like it’s been something they’ve done a hundred times before. In practice, it’s a lot less natural.

It’s barely a kiss-- Auston can’t stop a smile from blooming against his lips, an uncontrollable initial reaction, and Mitch has the same problem. Far too many teeth involved, to be sure. Auston’s hand finds its way to cradle Mitch’s jaw even as he pulls back, and that’s… too much, probably, way too transparent and emotional, but Auston can’t resist. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Mitch hides his face in Auston’s neck and laughs, a little breathless, a little nervous.

“This is-- what?” Auston breathes, an arm wrapping around Mitch’s waist. They’re so close. Mitch is a warm line of heat pressed up against him, and Auston has to crane his neck down to understand what he’s saying.

“I-- I was just thinking, if we’re going to be lineys and all,” Mitch says, clearing his throat. His voice is marred with uncertainty, looking like he’s afraid of what Auston will say, and a nervous laugh bubbles up. What’s he going to do, say no? It’s unorthodox, certainly, but Auston’s been wanting this forever, had nearly given up all hopes of it happening after a second season with Zach and Willy.

“Yeah, yes, it’s-- we’ll just get a head start, yeah? To make sure we’ll play together again.” Auston fumbles the words, nodding, and Mitch’s expression clears in relief.

“Exactly, I can just--” Mitch nods enthusiastically, resting his hands on Auston’s hips and pushing lightly. He backs him the last couple of feet into the kitchen until Auston’s pressed against the counter, then leans in to kiss him. Auston’s burning up with it-- has to pull back with a gasp and get another look at Mitch’s face, at his slightly swollen lips. When he checks, Mitch is staring back at him, focused eyes darting over his face, taking in his expressions with a soft, glowing smile on his face.

I did that, Auston thinks wordlessly, and Mitch blinks back at him, eyes dark, before snapping out of it.

“Sorry, I was just-- distracted, I guess. We’re just-- right,” He says, gaze dropping down as he flushes, and Auston has no idea what he’s talking about, can’t stop staring dumbly at his mouth, at his hands.

“You might want to hold on to something-- I don’t like getting my hair pulled.” Mitch says, squaring his shoulders as he rucks up Auston’s shirt, smooths a hand down his stomach. Mitch grins when the muscles jump under his touch, huffs out a laugh that has Auston’s heart pounding even as he unbuttons Auston’s pants.

“Ticklish?” Mitch teases, voice warm, and Auston’s too short of breath to respond-- just shakes his head and tries to commit the way Mitch smiles at him to memory.

It’s cold in his apartment, so he groans when Mitch gets his mouth on him, hot and wet and shameless, taking him in deep almost instantly. His grip tightens on the counter as he tries to get a handle on the rush of sensations.

Mitch looks so good, and Auston’s wanted this for so long. There’s an edge to the pleasure that’s making it almost too much, like every swirl of Mitch’s tongue is unraveling him further. He’s making way too much noise, tries to cover it by forming his groans into words.

“Mitch,” Auston gasps, and Mitch makes a breathy noise the next time he pulls back that goes straight to Auston’s gut, and fuck fuck fuck Auston’s not going to last long at all.

He takes a deep breath, calling on any unsexy thoughts he can think of, but then Mitch makes another sound around his dick and Auston can’t help but look down at him, his cheeks hollowed around Auston. Mitch looks up just then, eyes bright and a bit shiny, and fuck--

Auston draws back, or at least tries to, because coming in someone’s mouth without asking is rude as hell, except he doesn’t quite make it-- he comes all over Mitch’s tongue way too soon, over his cheek as Mitch blinks in wide-eyed surprise.

“Guh.” Mitch says, a garbled noise as he sputters around a mouthful of cum. Some slides down his chin, and Auston's brain isn't quite working, but he’s sprouting apologies on autopilot.

“Sorry, sorry, shit,” he repeats, hastily scrambling for something for Mitch to wipe his face-- they're still in his kitchen, christ. Nothing about this is going right.

He embarrassedly presses some paper towels to Mitch's face, and Mitch snorts-- takes them from him and stands. Auston's face is beet red, he's sure of it.

“God, I’m so fucking sorry, I can-- get you back?”

Mitch shakes his head, brushes off his knees. “You don't have to do that, it's--”

“I want to,” Auston says, a little desperate, and Mitch exhales shakily, eyes darting over Auston's face.

“Fuck,” he says on a whisper, barely audible. “You can get me off? On your couch.” Mitch adds, and it's definitely posed as a question, but it has Auston nodding, already on his way, and objectively it’s not anything special-- it’s hardly more than jerking off, really, but Mitch lets Auston bite at his throat and comes on a gasp when Auston tells him how good he looks.

Auston’s still riding high on it by the time they both come down, legs tangled on the couch. Mitch swipes at his fringe, grimacing at the dried come in his hair.

“Sorry again, for--” Auston fumbles, flushing again, and Mitch shakes his head with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm not gonna say anything, if that's what you're worried about.” He says. “Liney confidentiality, you know?”

Auston can’t stop the wide grin that spread over his face at the thought, and Mitch grins back unabashedly. He still looks a little dazed, his eyes a little glassy. Auston wants to kiss him again, even though there’s no reason to. No official reason to.

Instead, he clears his throat. “Um. You up for round two?” Auston offers, trying not to let the hopeful tone seep into his voice, but Mitch nods easily.

“Yeah, sure. Show me what you’ve got, Matts.” He prompts, and Auston slides back on the couch after a quick press of their lips, gets between his legs and smiles at the way Mitch falls quickly silent, breathing faster in anticipation.

It doesn’t go as well after that.

“God, you really just suck at all of this, don’t you?” Mitch crows gleefully after only a few minutes, and the tips of Auston’s ears burn. It’s fond, but also-- “Hyms and Willy let you get away with this? Shocker you guys score at all.”

“Shut up.” Auston huffs, pulling off to rest his forehead against Mitch’s thigh.

“Well. We’ll have time to practice that later.” Mitch says brightly, still breathless despite his chirps, and even though he's definitely teasing Auston, he can't help but feel warm inside at the thought.

*

They do not, in fact, have time to practice. Despite Babs trying them together for a few extra drills, their lines don’t change. Babs is going over the game plan and Auston’s trying to pay attention, he really is, but he’s playing with Zach and Willy-- no change whatsoever. Even through the confused embarrassment he can’t help but watch Mitch, think about the way he stilled and turned red after getting put back on a line with Naz and Patty.

Mitch completely books it out of the room once they’re dismissed.

“Mitch--” Auston calls hurrying to stop him in the parking lot, and Mitch glances around wildly before dragging him into his car, Auston nearly stumbling over his feet.

“Dude, what--” Auston exclaims, but Mitch is already talking, words spilling from his lips nearly too fast for Auston to keep up with.

“Okay, listen. Last night didn’t happen--” Mitch says, and Auston ignores the way his stomach lurches in disappointment in favor of paying attention to Mitch’s rattled speech.

“--super unprofessional. I thought we were going to play together, though clearly--”

“We still can!” Auston interrupts in protest, even though he knows he’s grasping at straws, raising his voice to barrel through the hurt.

“Do you really think we’re going to at this point?” Mitch says, and it throws him off balance, the directness. He hadn’t expected a response from Mitch’s rehearsed let-down speech. “Because I really don’t see that happening.”

“I mean,” Auston says, dumbly hopeful, and he knows it’s doomed as soon as he opens his mouth. “We can still try, right?”

Mitch snorts, mouth twisted into a frown. “Yeah, somehow I don’t think you shooting off in two minutes did us any favors.”

Logically, Auston knows that Mitch is hurting too-- that he’s embarrassed, ashamed, but. It’s so different from what he’d imagined for their first morning after, what he’d pretended last night could’ve meant. And Auston knows he should say something, about how he doesn’t care if it’s ‘unprofessional’, doesn’t care about being linemates at all, really, but his heart is pounding in his ears and Mitch is mocking him, and it’s too much.

He doesn’t say anything.

Mitch is watching him, and when Auston doesn’t respond, he sets his jaw. “Right. Good talk.” He says, a clear dismissal, and Auston gets out of the car, feeling like he just lost a game.

*

As much as he’d like to say that it doesn’t change anything in the long run, it does. Mitch is determined to avoid mentioning it, clearly, so Auston squares his shoulders and plays along with it-- tries to ignore the way it feels charged when they’re alone. He’s always stared a beat too long at Mitch when they’re in the locker room, but now that he knows what it’s like to have Mitch under his hands? To call it distracting would be an understatement. Auston almost wouldn’t mind forgetting the whole thing ever happened, if it meant going back to his normal wishful thinking, only--

He catches Mitch looking back at him more than a few times. Auston’s not stupid enough to misinterpret what that means.

*

Auston fucks his shoulder up. To rub salt in the wound, Mitch replaces him on his line for the few games he’s out.

“No wonder you want him on your line so bad,” Willy tells him with a wondering note in his voice, and Auston exhales carefully through a wave of jealousy. “Wow.”

Auston fakes a brief laugh, adjusts his ice wrap to have something to do with his hands.

“Like, seriously-- Zach, back me up here.” Willy calls out, and Zach shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“You’re horrible. Auston’ll be back soon enough.”

Willy sighs dramatically, which draws a snort out of Zach. “You could learn a lot.” He tells Auston faux sagely, and Auston’s so tense that his shoulder twinges before he remembers to relax it.

“Shoulder doing alright?” Zach asks quietly, an aside, and it’s not, not really, but Auston starts playing again relatively quickly. After all, it’s the playoffs.

*

Auston surges forward, cups Mitch’s jaw, and that has Mitch pressing back, steadying his hands on Auston’s waist. He scrapes his nails under the hem Auston’s shirt, and Auston’s responding nip on his lower lip has him gasping into his mouth.

“Mitch,” Auston breathes senselessly, and it seems to remind Mitch where he is, what he’s doing, because his eyes fly open, his hands jerking up as if to push Auston away, though they just rest on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric.

“Wait, we shouldn’t-- shouldn’t be--” He says as Auston trails down his neck with an open mouth, half-hearted protests tapering off into a high, breathless noise when Auston scrapes his teeth over his pulse point.

“Who cares? We both want it.” Auston hums, pressing closer, and Mitch doesn’t quite step away, but he does lean back.

“Who cares, it’s-- we need to stay in the series.” Mitch says, incredulous. His hands still haven’t dropped from Auston’s waist.

Auston knows he can convince him, just needs to-- “We will, easily, this is just--”

“Seriously, it’s-- we need to win this game, we’re not-- we’re not linemates, we don’t play together.”

“It doesn’t matter--”

“It does.” Mitch practically snarls, and pushes him away. He straightens his shirt with sharp, jerky motions, and glances at his phone before starting towards the door. “I’m going to-- Naz’s, I guess.”

Auston wants to throw something, at a complete loss for words. “Are you serious?”

“I’m not going to be the one to fuck this up for us.” Mitch spits at him. He slams the door when he leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> god, i woke up with the epiphany that i wrote nazem kadri mocking mitch marner's super embarrassing boner for patrick marleau, which cannot be posted until this gets posted, so here we are. 
> 
> I would dearly love any comments on this whatsoever! I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
